


In Captivity

by fractalanatomy



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Biting, Blackmail, Brutality, Choking, Coercion, D/s, Discipline, Domination, Finger Sucking, Fisting, Forced Nudity, Gangbang, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Master/Pet, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, PTSD, Pain, Piercing, Punishment, Rape, Sadism, Sexual Exhaustion, Shower Sex, Submission, Tentacle Sex, Threesome, Throat Fucking, Whipping, face fucking, noncon, servitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2305091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalanatomy/pseuds/fractalanatomy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hat Films trio are back to collect their dues from Sjin's farm, but this time they don't want items, they want Sjin himself. Payback really is a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> I am a terrible person (so sorry, Sjin).

He thought he'd be fine, but Sjin had never truly been prepared. The way he dug into his tasks with such focus, seeming to forget the world around him and even the needs of his own body, without anyone else to look out for him, he was essentially a sitting duck. Xephos had gone off for the day to Craggy Island, rigging up immensely intricate machines for Hole Diggers Inc to do god knows what, and Sjin had been left to his own devices on his farm, such sweet freedom he cherished for each and every moment. 

The architect, now farmer, knelt in the tilled soil to lovingly tend his chili plants, speaking to them while he watered and inspected each one, as children in need of nurturing. The warm summer sun shone high above, pleasantly heating his flannel-covered back and feeding all of the plants he had painstakingly cultivated over time to bring life to his precious farm, and it was no wonder, then, that he was unaware of three figures weaving through the barley fields out back, so immersed in his waking dream that only once he was shoved forward, face first in the soil with a boot against his back to hold him down, did he realize that no matter what precautions were taken, he had never been truly prepared for their return.

"Time to pay up, mate," a familiar voice sang from above, while two sets of hands grabbed his own thin arms and pinned them behind his back.

"What--no! What the hell are you doing here," Sjin cried out, struggling beneath the boot that kept him firmly in the dirt, crushing one of his beloved chili plants under his own weight. He fought valiantly but could not overcome his stronger and more numerous attackers, and within seconds his wrists were cuffed securely, now taken prisoner on his own land. 

"You nearly had us last time, you tricky farmer," a second, deeper voice said, while a third chimed in with "Tricky farmer, indeed!"

Sjin wriggled and squirmed on the ground, shouting "Let _go_ of me!" through gritted teeth, but it was no use, as he felt a cold iron collar clamp tightly around his neck and was jerked upward, forced to stand and face his attackers while embarrassingly subdued and covered in dark, moist dirt. The red and green juices from crushed chilies and leaves stained the front of his clothes now, and half of his cherubic face was soiled from his struggle and flushed bright red, but Sjin donned his bravest mask as he stared his trio of enemies straight in the eyes. 

Before him stood two taller men, one wearing a smart three-piece suit and a shit-eating grin, the afternoon sun glinting brightly across his mop of black hair and bushy beard; the other, clothed in the skin of a walrus like a pinniped berserker, the lifeless head and enormous tusks protecting him from the elements. No doubt the last of the trio behind Sjin's back was the bright green slime shaped as a man, who held on tightly to the leash attached to the architect's unwanted new collar, giving it a violent jerk as he spoke.

"No getting away this time, Chili Willy," the slime, Smith, said with glee.

"We're here to collect our dues again," the suited man, Ross, said as he twirled a small set of keys around one finger, likely the keys to Sjin's handcuffs. "And this time, you're not sliming out of it. Sorry Smith," he added, not meaning to offend his gelatinous partner.

Helpless, Sjin pulled against his leash for freedom, to no avail. "L-look, I've got diamonds, ender pearls, force gems, w-w-whatever you want, it's in the barn! Take it and we'll call it even!"

The berserker, Trott, held a torch in his clawed hand and waved it dangerously close to Sjin's face, the heat making the farmer's beard prickle and start to singe. "Oh no, mate, that might've been enough last time if you and your space-buddy hadn't fucked us over, but this time, it's _you_ we want."

Sjin's mouth hung open as he struggled for something, anything, that would help get him out of this mess, but all he could think to do was hold his cuffed hands together behind his back and try to cast a spell, maybe stun his captors briefly enough to get away. This plan fizzled within seconds, however, as Smith felt the heat forming and let out a yelp, causing Trott to back off and hold his blazing torch just close enough to one of Sjin's chili plants to catch it on fire.

"Ah ah, none of that," Trott scolded, watching the flame dance with a wicked grin.

"Come quietly, or we burn your lovely little farm to the ground and sell the deed to the ashes," Ross said in a dark, warning tone, pocketing his keys and turning to watch the burnt chili plant as the next ones on either side caught fire, melting grotesquely in the heat. 

With a loud whine, Sjin immediately stopped his conjuring and lowered his hands in submission. It was a frightening prospect, letting these barbarians hold him hostage for money he supposedly owed, but he could never in good conscience let anything bad happen to his beloved farm. Panicking, the smaller man stammered, "N-no, no, stop! Stop! I'll do anything, a-anything you want, don't ruin my farm, _please!_ " and the tusked skin-wearer instantly set about stamping out each flame before the blaze could spread further, saving the rest of the delicious chilies from certain doom. 

Sjin breathed a little sigh of relief, though it was cut off as Ross took hold of the leash from Smith and wrapped it around his hand, keeping Sjin's trembling body up close against his own. "No funny business, you hear me?" he growled into the farmer's ear, and as Sjin nodded fervently, his eyes clamped shut, the trio then took off as one unit, dragging their poor captive behind them through the endless golden barley fields.

"W-where are you taking me," Sjin eventually gathered up the nerve to ask, after several minutes of silent tromping through hill and dale, flattening the once picturesque hillside beneath weathered boots. 

"The warehouse," Trott grunted, and from then on no more words were spoken, Sjin figuring perhaps it was best not to ask for clarification. They had come to a recently dug hole in the rocky hillside, only large enough for one person at a time to pass through, and as Ross was the first to enter, Sjin was unceremoniously shoved in next and dragged along the pitch-black tunnel, sandwiched between his abductors with no chance of escape. The trembling farmer stumbled and scraped against hard rock many times, letting out small gasps and whimpers of pain, but did his best to follow along the trail, silently praying that someone, anyone, would soon realize he was gone and would come to his aid.

If only luck had been on his side.


	2. Dirtied

The long minutes of skittering through a poorly-lit tunnel on the end of a leash stretched into an eternity for Sjin, every scrape and cut from jagged rock edges and lost footing throbbing dully through his body; having his arms cuffed behind his back was a real problem, leaving him unable to catch and right himself along the rough trail. 

It was torturous, but after a good hour of walking the darkness ebbed in noticeable increments, and soon enough Sjin could see sunlight peeking around Ross' larger frame, which blocked out most of his view. The smell of fresh air from outside the tunnel hit his nose and he took a big whiff, filling his lungs, blinking hard as the sunlight invaded his eyes in what felt like a split second, all four of the group having emerged from the darkness and onto a grassy hill. Sjin spotted the small wooden hut they came to, the Hat Shack, and felt a tiny, warm wave of recognition, though once he was dragged inside and through a new doorway leading down an ominous, hastily-dug stone tunnel, he realized with dread that the Hat crew had been quite busy recently.

Ross came to a stop in the middle of a large room full of machines and doors, and Sjin bumped into his back, nearly toppling over, too occupied with taking in his new surroundings. He looked down sheepishly as Ross whipped around for a good scold, but the larger man thought better of it as he eyed his captive and simply stood still. The other two of the three odd companions circled around Sjin in a predatory way, taking in the sight of their prisoner as Ross held the farmer on a very short lead, trying to brush the dirt from his own suit in the meantime.

"Bloody filthy," he muttered to himself, then looked over at his prize. "So are you, good lord! We'd best get you cleaned up before we let you run around, then. Come on," he mentioned to Sjin while tugging on the leash, as if the smaller man had the ability to protest.

A gooey green hand reached out to Sjin then tentatively pulled back as the farmer was dragged in the opposite direction, toward the washroom. "But we just got him, Ross! Let's have a _good_ look at him," Smith said in protest, pining, but was waved off with a grunt.

"It can wait," Ross muttered over his shoulder, trying to hide the growing excitement in his voice. 

His pace was quick and Sjin fought to keep up, but it was not a long walk, and soon enough he found himself in a large washroom with tiled floors and plenty of room between the toilet, sink, and shower. He jumped as Ross slammed and locked the heavy wooden door behind them. 

"Take your clothes off," the larger man commanded, unclipping the lead from Sjin's collar and uncuffing him with all the finesse of a jaded prison guard, then stepping back and crossing his arms expectantly.

Looking to the mirror over the sink, the farmer finally caught his own reflection and was embarrassed to see himself covered in dirt and dried blood, little bits of grass even stuck in his mustache. Obediently, he removed his old flannel shirt without much fuss, though once that was off he realized Ross was staring at him intently and flushed bright red.

"Are you going to leave," Sjin asked quietly, looking over to the rustic shower stall carved into the stone wall and frowning at the thought of being watched while he washed.

"No," the other man said flatly as he took Sjin by the waist and began unzipping his farming overalls to speed up the process. Sjin instinctively struggled to free himself from Ross' grip but there was nowhere to run and no sense in tiring himself out at this point, and with that in mind, he eventually turned his gaze away, hanging his head with a certain resignation to his fate. 

As his clothes fell to a heap on the floor, Sjin sighed and kicked off his boots, leaving himself bare and vulnerable, unable to look Ross in the eye before stepping into the running shower. He would not have admitted it, but the steady, welcoming pressure of the hot water calmed his nerves a fair amount, and he held his face up to the stream of water to relish the feel of the day's dirt being washed from his body and down the drain. That wonderful sensation was enough to take him away from here for a split second, enough even to keep to him from realizing another person was joining him in the shower before it was too late.

"H-hey! What the hell are you doing," Sjin squawked, huddling against the back wall of the enclave and covering his groin protectively, though this only provoked an eyeroll from the other naked man.

"Shut up, would you," Ross grumbled, grabbing a green bar of soap from a carved out hollow and closing in on his prey as if he'd done this plenty of times before. 

Cornered and naked, Sjin stood stock still, eyes wide open, and had no choice but to let the larger man press up against him in the steam and gently begin scrubbing across his narrower shoulders, over his neck, and down the slope of his back. It was soothing, much to Sjin's dismay, to have his aggressor carefully lather each part of his vulnerable body as if he was incapable of doing it for himself, those larger fingers pressing and massaging into every tense muscle and inch of wet skin, and once eager hands found the small of his back, Sjin couldn't help letting out a weak groan of pleasure. He wished with all of his heart that he could take it back.

"Oh, like that, do you?" 

Wearing a sly grin, Ross maneuvered himself behind the smaller man, pressing his firm, toned front up against the slippery, lathered skin of Sjin's back, and held him close while continuing to scrub further and further down. Once reaching between his victim's inner thighs, Ross' arousal made itself known against Sjin's backside, and the farmer whined, but had nowhere to go and no way to defend himself. 

"Stop," Sjin pleaded as those large, soapy hands came back around to grope at his rear end and part him for entry, a firm cock nudging tightly between his round asscheeks. "Please, stop! D-don't do this!"

"Shut up," Ross insisted impassively.

Pinned tightly between a much larger man and the slick shower wall, Sjin had no choice but to brace himself, and as Ross forced his way inside straight up to the hilt, the farmer cried out in betrayal as well as physical hurt, his fists pounding against the wet stone, thankful the running water masked the tears flowing down his chubby cheeks. He fought to breathe, shock overtaking his body, the wetness becoming cold over his skin despite the heat of the steam in the air and Ross pressing against his back. 

Every thrust was like a jolt of electricity, stimulating, painful, shooting through his core and dissipating out his limbs, but it was all wrong, with a horrible monster of guilt and nausea clawing its way out from the pit of his stomach, nothing like how it was with Sips. Sips would hold him gently around the belly and love him and whisper beautiful, filthy things in his ear, nipping at him with lust, but with Ross it was unwanted and awful and he continued to cry his invisible tears beneath the hot, flowing water, his nails now leaving claw marks in the grey stone. His cock stood at attention during his violation and Sjin wanted to shout at his own body for finding pleasure in this but there was simply no use in resisting, no sense in fighting until it was all over.

With his victim subdued and shaking, it wasn't long before the event truly was over, and the intense satisfaction of exerting his dominance over the wily Sjin put Ross over the edge with little resistance. The larger man came with a few hard thrusts and let his hot breath roll over Sjin's skin with the steam, enjoying his position of true power for a few moments before pulling out and splashing himself clean.

"Hurry up and rinse yourself off, mate, we'll be waiting outside," Ross said as he stepped out, grabbing a fluffy towel to dry off his messy black hair. His tone of voice gave no indication of anything being off, and it flooded Sjin with a venomous anger, though the farmer said nothing in return.

Making sure to clean himself off thoroughly after his traumatic encounter, Sjin took his own towel from the wall and slowly wiped himself down, trying to block out what had just occurred, though the pain in his backside kept it firmly planted in his mind. Looking all around the washroom, it seemed as though Ross had made off with his farming clothes and left him nothing to wear, save his own skin and possibly the wet towel he held in his hands. A creeping dread washed over Sjin as he realized this was likely on purpose, now expected to go outside and endure further humiliation in the face of his enemies; with his bottom lip quivering, Sjin could think of nothing better to do at that moment than lean on the edge of the sink and finish his crying before steeling himself, preparing for whatever new abuse came his way.


	3. Trained

"So, he's like our pet now?"

"No, you idiot. He's our prisoner!"

Silence.

"I'm gonna call him Sparky!"

Shivering, naked except for a wet towel around his waist, Sjin hugged himself for comfort and huddled next to the washroom door, listening intently. He knew he would soon have to come out and meet three pairs of ravenous eyes but tried to delay the inevitable as long as possible, hoping to pick up some useful tidbit of information among the inane chatter the trio always carried on. How long could they possibly keep him here? Surely someone, say Xephos, would come to realize he was missing from the farm, or perhaps Sips would try to--

"Alright you, we're done waiting, get out here," an irritated voice ordered from behind the door, which flung wide open in an instant, causing Sjin to jump back. 

A walrus head poked into the washroom, looked left and right, then centered on the freshly showered farmer, an evil smirk settling upon the human lips between long ivory tusks.

"You don't need this," Trott said while snatching the towel from around Sjin's waist and tossing it aside, as if the very notion of him covering up was silly. Before the smaller man could go scrambling for his towel he was roughly grabbed, two fingers beneath his collar, and dragged forward out of the washroom into the wide open space of the warehouse floor. Smith and Ross, who had been speaking in a closed circle, turned toward their captive with great interest and observed his nakedness in their own way, the suited man with a wicked grin and the slime with a head tilted in curiosity. Sjin could only meet Ross' gaze for a split second before balking, spending the rest of conversation looking down to the floor. 

"So," Smith began slowly, glancing back and forth between Trott and his prisoner, "what do we do with him?"

"Whatever we want," Ross answered in an awfully sinister tone, narrowing his gaze.

Leaning in close, Trott gave a good sniff at Sjin's fluffy brown hair, his walrus tusks pressing against the smaller man's exposed skin and leaving light marks. His fingers slid free from the iron collar, and though Sjin had the sudden urge to make a break for it and flee, he knew he wouldn't get far. The claws of the walrus skin raked firmly up his back, returning his thoughts to reality, and he shivered once they reached his shoulders, warily watching Trott from the corner of his eye to decipher his intentions.

"He should make us some sandwiches," Smith announced suddenly, his concentration broken and expression lightening. "Sparky, can you go make me a grilled cheese?"  


All eyes turned to the green slime in the smart suit, even Sjin's, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the group.

"S-sure, okay," Sjin said slowly, taking the opportunity to inch away from Trott and his bestial behaviour, holding his hands in front of his belly with insecurity. "Bacon on it?"

Smith's head bobbed up and down excitedly at the idea of such decadence, and the other two men exchanged amused glances; with a shrug from Ross, Trott joined in to place his own order. 

"I want fish on mine, too. Fish _and_ bacon. Mm."

As Sjin took a moment to consider whether or not the skin-wearer realized he wasn't actually a walrus, he was roughly grabbed by the collar again, claws just barely missing his face. Trott hurried with his prisoner in tow to their simple kitchen in drooling anticipation of what was to come, his companions following close behind. It was modest at best but certainly workable, and upon entering Smith and Trott eagerly took their seats at the counter on their favourite stools, briefly squabbling over which was which. 

Humming, Ross fiddled with something behind the kitchen door before approaching a very nervous Sjin over by the fridge.

"Here, wear this," he said, holding a frilly pink apron out to the farmer, now cook, sporting the greasiest smile possible. Sjin's big blue eyes widened even further at the thought and he flushed bright red, but at least it was something to help cover his nakedness, he reasoned, and took the garment willingly. 

Slipping it over his head, Sjin froze with an expression like a deer in the headlights while Ross took the initiative to tie the waist strings very, very snugly, the larger man standing far too close to Sjin's naked backside for comfort. A familiar fear gripped the farmer, the feel of rough fingers at the small of his back now enough to make him wince, though he got away with a simple grab to the butt this time before his tormentor went to lean against the counter a few feet away. Sjin breathed a sigh of relief, and even cracked an unlikely smile as he looked down and discovered a kitschy red heart design over the chest of the apron.

"Um, why do you guys even have this thing," he mused quietly, running a finger along one frilled pink edge.

The trio exchanged worried glances.

"Didn't we have a girl here once, or--"

"Trott totally bought it--"

"I DID NOT--"

Sjin's smile grew and he left them to argue over the origins of the apron, satisfied in having sewn retaliatory chaos. He went about his business preparing their grilled cheese sandwiches, trying to forget that besides the silly apron he was in fact still naked and being watched like a trio of hungry hawks watches a plump bunny. He could feel three sets of eyes boring into him from behind as he worked the pan with a skilled wrist, the sandwiches letting out a satisfying sizzle as they toasted and were flipped, but his reprieve from having to face the stares head-on was brief, as the food was ready in merely a jiffy. Wordlessly, Sjin served the other men their piping hot, expertly crafted sandwiches on plain paper plates, scooting away from Ross as quickly as possible to stand over by Smith and take in the smell of bacon and melting cheese. His mouth couldn't help but water while he watched his captors dig in to their snack, hoping they took pity on him and allowed him to eat as well.

"Hey, are you hungry, too?" Trott asked with a mouth full of grilled cheese, as if on cue, to which the farmer nodded innocently. "Come here, then. I got something for you."

Oh no. 

Cold dread froze Sjin's insides as he realized the skin-wearer was unlikely to mean sharing his tasty sandwich, but something much more humiliating instead. 

"A-actually, I'm fine, nevermind," Sjin said in a tiny voice, looking down to the floor and hugging his chest for comfort. Something dark moved in the corner of his eye, however, and realizing it was Ross herding him to within Trott's reach, Sjin gulped, forced into obeying to avoid what he considered the greater of two evils. Trott shifted on his stool to sit sideways, still munching on his sandwich, and spread his legs a bit from their closed position.

"That's it, come closer. Closer. Clooooser."

The playful goading continued until Sjin was positioned directly between Trott's thighs, and his intentions were blindingly obvious. The smaller man looked over his shoulder to Ross, who was looming right behind him, and was taken by surprise as the berserker grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down, Ross making his move to push on Sjin's shoulders at the same time, forcing their prisoner shakily onto his knees. Sjin cried out as he hit the hard floor, having to grab Trott's thighs to keep himself from lurching face-first into the other man's crotch, but was only met with mockery.

"Oh, he's awfully hungry, isn't he?" Trott said with a laugh, his clawed hand down the front of his ragged surgical scrubs.

"Starvin'," Smith agreed, sandwich visibly dissolving in his cheeks. "Be a good boy, Sparky..."

Sjin could feel Ross' leg and hip against his back, holding him in place, and as a stiff, upwardly-curved cock revealed itself before his face, he knew this could be done the easy way or the hard way; by now the farmer was opting for easy, to be over and done and out of there as quickly as possible. Or so he thought.

With a resigned little sigh, Sjin gently took Trott's shaft in one hand and balls in the other, his deft fingers working and manipulating all flesh they came across in a well-practiced routine. There was some hesitation but soon enough Sjin wrapped his unwilling tongue and lips around the tip, provoking a guttural moan from Trott, who was still munching away on his sandwich without a care. 

Sjin shut his eyes and leisurely lapped away while stroking, trying to picture someone, anyone else besides Trottimus, his mind cycling through possible cock matches until it settled on Lalna. Yes, Lalna, his magical partner in law enforcement would do, the two never having been intimate before, and so Sjin tried to relax, imagining himself rewarding the blonde man after a particularly long day at work, instead of being forced into servicing a cruel enemy. The tension in his jaw eased up as Sjin imagined Lalna seated before him, looking ragged and weary but very appreciative, needy, perhaps resting a loving hand on his shoulder as he bit back moans of pleasure. Sjin could easily allow himself to suck harder now, lost in this daydream, his hand moving away to take more and more of Trott's curved cock into his mouth while bobbing his head expertly. 

The berserker hung his head, his chewing ground to a halt while remaining focused on his pleasure. His claw-covered hand rifled through Sjin's short hair, the other in a fist on the counter. As he came closer and closer to climax his breathing became more ragged, his moans louder, looking up to Ross once or twice through slitted eyes to show off his enjoyment. 

Hearing those noises of pleasure in far too deep a voice for Lalna, Sjin found it difficult to hold onto his daydream for long, until finally his bubble burst and he was forced back to Earth. There was Trott again in front of his face; Ross pressing against his back; Smith watching shyly a couple of feet away. Still pleasuring his captor, Sjin realized his fantasy had woken up his own desire, and was sporting a sizable erection beneath his campy apron. He was surprised to see just how into the act he had gotten over the past few minutes, and realized how awful he must have looked, how wanton and desperate to please these terrible people who were all watching him like deviants, making him feel very small and helpless indeed. A deep red blush bloomed over his cheeks and down his chest, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, but he couldn't stop, not yet, when he was so close to finishing his duty.

With a low moan, grasping Sjin's hair awfully tightly and pounding on the counter with his fist, Trott came with a few strong jerks, the head of his cock hitting the back of the slimmer man's throat. Sjin struggled to free himself enough to turn his head, pushing strongly against Trott's thighs, spitting out the cum that had invaded his mouth and wiping his lips along his bare forearm afterward to rid himself of the taste.

"Oh no, why'd you do that," he could hear Smith murmur above him, sounding genuinely worried. Looking over to the green man quizzically, Sjin straightened his back as Ross moved away temporarily to dig in a nearby drawer, making a startling clatter before coming back to kneel beside the vulnerable farmer.

"We don't spit around here, you've been bad, mate," Trott said between breaths, tightening his grip on Sjin's hair to an uncomfortable degree.

"That behaviour needs correcting," Ross growled into the smaller man's ear, snaking one arm around his slim waist to hold him steady. 

"But--" Sjin began to protest, eyeing the large wooden spoon the other man was holding firmly in one fist, but cut himself off with a howl as the head of the utensil made contact with his bare ass, a loud _thwack_ bouncing off the walls. 

His mouth hung open in shock, a whine escaping, and he wriggled, jerked, shoved, but there was no freedom from Ross and Trott's combined hold. Each forceful hit from the spoon brought with it fresh tears and a bright red mark, eventually blooming into bruises and ruining the farmer's unblemished skin. Every part of Sjin's backside was aflame with agony, but more than that, it was the humiliation of being sexually punished by these men that filled him with incredible shame.

"Will we have to do this again next time?"

_THWACK._

"You gotta learn your place, now."

_THWACK._

"Are you gonna to be good from now on?"

_THWACK._

Finally Sjin broke and cried out, "Yes!! I-I-I'll be good, I _promise_ ," his nails dug deep into Trott's leg. Every part of him trembled as he anticipated another brutal hit from the spoon, but, mercifully, none came. His eyes were clamped shut, pink and puffy from crying, and so did not see the wooden fruit reamer that Ross took out from one pocket. It wasn't a large tool by any means but its pointed nose and ridges could certainly do some damage in the wrong hands; Sjin wailed and tensed his muscles as it was forced up into his sore ass without lubrication, acting as a plug, it having indeed fallen into the wrong hands today.

Satisfied, Ross stood and brushed the dust from his knees, ignoring the tenting in his pants for now. "Good," he said simply, leaving Sjin to huddle against Trott and shiver uncontrollably like a beaten dog.

"Take that out and there'll be hell to pay," Trott warned the poor man in a low tone, releasing his hair, to which Sjin had no doubt. The skin-wearer stood, shaking his victim off, and lumbered over to his companion, both leaving the kitchen without another word. Sjin now held onto a leg of the stool for comfort, not daring to move in this state.

Frowning, Smith slid off of his own stool and knelt behind the battered captive, to which Sjin flinched, but did not have the energy move away. Slowly, unsurely, the humanoid let his warm, gooey hands travel across the ruined flesh of Sjin's backside and leave a light slime trail, careful to ease up when his new pet tensed at particularly sore spots. It was doubtful this treatment would help the healing process, but the fluid did ease a little bit of the pain, if nothing else.

"It's okay, boy," Smith said softly, with great compassion as well as condescension. "You just had to learn, that's all..."


	4. Shared

It had only been three days since his capture, but each was blending into the other for Sjin, an endless parade of menial chores, regular debasement, and walking on eggshells around the Hat trio. After his last discipline session they had mercifully kept their hands to themselves to allow him some healing time, but he still came to dread the nights, and not because of the monsters that roamed the countryside. 

His captors had seemingly entered an agreement as to who would have access to him each night without intrusion from the others, being passed around like potatoes at the dinner table to keep everyone happy. Tonight it was his turn to share a bed with Smith, who seemed the least despicable of the trio, however he would rather not have been touched at all, much less forced into playing the part of the little spoon, with a gooey arm draped over his waist. 

Smith had no trouble dozing off once wrapped around the farmer but Sjin laid awake for quite some time, feeling sticky and uncomfortably warm and not liking the blue tarp sheets the slime slept upon in the least. Every little movement, even a breath too deep, made the material crinkle loudly; despite Smith's light snoring directly in his ear, Sjin doubted he would get much sleep in this arrangement.

A whining creak from across the room caught Sjin's attention and his eyes fluttered open, the furred silhouette creeping in from the doorway coming into blurry focus. Without the arm-length tusks and glassy walrus eyes, he hardly recognized Trott before him, who was clad simply in a light brown housecoat and slippers, hair looking as though each strand was trying to escape his head from a different direction. Sjin squinted and reached up to rub at his eyes while Trott stealthily shrugged off his nightclothes and slipped into bed beside the farmer with a mischievous grin, though there was nothing quiet about laying down on a plastic tarp, and the mad rustling caused Smith to wake with a loud snort and a yawn. The sleepy slime fumbled around with his arm, which had been draped over Sjin, and finding a new body on the opposite side of the bed, retracted with lightning speed as though his fingertips had just touched lava.

"What the hell are _you_ doing in here," Smith said, hissing in annoyance. "It's my turn tonight!"

"I didn't want to wait," Trott replied as he wriggled up close to Sjin's front, taking him by the narrow hip. "Besides, you're not even using him!"

Smith furrowed his brow, clutching one of Sjin's pecs tightly in defiance, prompting a surprised _oof_. "I am too!! Wait your goddamned turn!"

Trott rolled his eyes. "Just squeezing a tit doesn't count, Smiffy! Pass him over, already," the skin-wearer insisted, biting his lip and greedily pulling Sjin closer to his naked front, where a raging hard-on was just waiting for him.

" _You're_ a tit!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Sjin tensed and looked back at the possessive slime nervously. In any other circumstance he may have gotten a good swipe at Trott's face and ended the argument, but since his last painful punishment, the farmer had learned to keep his mouth shut and let his captors do as they pleased, not wanting to see what other forms of discipline they had in store for him. Turning his face away from Trott, Sjin shut his eyes tightly, feeling like a fresh piece of meat between two stray dogs.

"Back off, Trott," the slime growled, his territorial instinct rearing its ugly head. Angrily, he lifted one of Sjin's legs, allowing access for penetration, and a wet, sloppy _shlick, shluck_ noise began coming from under the covers. Sjin dreaded to think of what this meant, but the other human's raged ebbed, knowing full well how a slime goes about claiming its property. Trott did as he was told, for once, relinquishing his grip to prop himself up on an elbow and watch.

"Ooh, now you're in for it," Trott said to the smaller man with glee, chuckling as Sjin's eyes shot wide open.

Something down there was...squirming.

Held tightly in place by Smith, Sjin let out an uncomfortable groan as he could feel what must have been a tentacle offshoot of the slime's body slither between his legs, curling up past his nethers and across the front of his underbelly with what seemed to be a mind of its own. It must have been at least a foot long to make it so far, and the moist appendage was strangely hot against his skin, practically steaming as it left a thin slime trail, writhing back and forth eagerly. 

"Come on then, make him your slimy little bitch, or else he's mine," Trott said with teeth flashing, urging his friend onward while giving his own dripping cock a good stroke. If he couldn't have first dibs, he could at least enjoy the show.

Sjin managed to look down for a split second at the dripping green tentacle against his belly, and horror overtook him as it quickly disappeared back between his legs. It played at his opening like a curious finger, Smith hiking his victim's leg up further with a grunt, and with a warm tickling sensation Sjin felt himself being penetrated by the alien shaft, but it was well tapered and surprisingly gentle, and his muscles didn't constrict tightly the way they would with an invading cock. The farmer's mouth opened somewhat and he arched his back while the tentacle probed and prodded its way up into his bowels, its shaft now thick enough for proper stimulation, but Smith didn't jerk his hips as expected, merely panting and letting his copulatory organ do its own work. Little whimpers and whines escaped from Sjin as he could feel the long tentacle working itself deeper and deeper, much further than human anatomy ever could, and it was such a mystifyingly pleasant experience that his cock was responding despite his awkward position.

Trott took this all in stride, curious as to what it must feel like to be impaled so deeply. Mere inches away from Sjin, the berserker being driven wild by his own need, he brought one hand to the smaller man's chest and stroked it fondly, his thumb playing with a nipple and prompting a gasp. Sjin's head tilted forward, looking up at Trott as the other man's hand travelled down his front, resting over his belly, which was normally slightly rounded but now bulged a little further thanks to an alien invader. Suddenly Sjin moaned loudly and Trott could swear he felt the end of Smith's tentacle swell within their captive's body, having seen the thing in action before and knowing once it found its entirety embedded in flesh its head would bloat with fluid to form a considerable knot. It must have felt good, he mused, with the other man's hand now tightly grasping at his bicep. Curling his lip, Trott pulled himself right up to embrace Sjin and kissed at his shoulder affectionately, trailing slowly up his collared neck and beneath his bearded chin. Sjin rolled his head back to take it all in with a pleasured groan, unable to hold on to his fear and animosity while being so wonderfully tended and stuffed full. 

His breathing hitched as he could feel the newly bulbous tentacle head squirm deep inside of his bowels, rubbing itself needily against every wall it encountered. It was maddeningly enjoyable, but after only a few moments of this, a grunt from Smith signaled the slime's coming climax. Gripping his partner even tighter, his hips bucking weakly, the copulatory organ began to bulge all along its length now as it prepared to deposit its store of fluid. The rapid pulsating from within felt too good to be worrying, though, and Sjin's mind was awash in lust, finding himself returning Trott's affection with long and passionate kisses on the lips, punctuated by moans. 

With a surprised noise Sjin pulled away from the other man as a minor explosion rocked his bowels, and his hand shot down to his belly with worry but his skin was still intact, pulled more tightly across his gut than usual perhaps but no worse for wear. Behind him, Smith shuddered violently, his moist front reforming into a seamless surface where his tentacle had once been. The gooey humanoid sighed deeply, having left his partner's innards well-coated in slick slime.

Sporting a predatory grin, Trott saw his opportunity and grabbed Sjin by the hips while Smith was distracted to roll him forward, the smaller man's back now up against his own bare front.

"Hey," Smith objected, though obviously tuckered out and not fighting hard to keep his pet.

"My turn," Trott said smugly, his arm fitting snugly around Sjin's waist. Sjin found little to protest, however, as he was again bombarded with kisses up his neck and beneath his jaw, well aware of the throbbing cock pressing hard into his back but for once truly eager to receive it. His arm bent back and found Trott's side, and he tried to pull their bodies closer together in a display of desire, his bowels aching and heavy with lubrication. He was so close, and he was going to get off this time, damn it!

Trott wasted no time in claiming his prize and, knowing Smith had left their captive primed for friction, lifted Sjin's leg up enough to promptly impale him on his stiff cock, the translucent green slime allowing him easy access. Feeling a hard, unyielding organ pound into him after the pliable wetness of a slimy tentacle was simply overwhelming, and Sjin let out a howl of pleasure, keening with each frantic thrust, his prostate aching from stimulation. Trott's nails dug into his captive's leg, slamming as hard as he could right from the get-go, and in his desire bit down hard on Sjin's shoulder, the yelp of pain in response only exciting him further. Sjin's blurry gaze now fell on Smith, silently pleading for relief.

"You don't have to be so rough, mate, jeez," Smith said with a yawn, deciding to lend a helping hand to his pet's drooling cock. He lazily stroked up and down, up and down, Sjin's hips doing most of the work as the force of Trott's thrusts kept him in motion. The added stimulation was just enough to blot out the ache as the berserker's teeth dug into his flesh, and with a series of unrestrained moans Sjin came hard, coating Smith's naturally gooey hand. Seconds later Trott joined him, his canines barely breaking enough skin to draw droplets of blood, and soon his thrusts slowed, relinquishing his bite and licking at his plaything's shoulder almost apologetically. The two stayed coupled as they recovered, making Smith a bit jealous.

"Alright, alright, time's up," the slime said grumpily, "give him back."

Trott merely chuckled as Sjin obediently rolled back to his original position as the little spoon, letting Smith snuggle back up against him in a loud rustling of tarp-sheets. He looked over at Trott sheepishly, embarrassed at having wanted to be fucked so badly.

"Too bad we can't breed him," the other man said with a tired smile, patting the slight bulge of Sjin's belly with fondness before sitting up.

"Why not?" Smith asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

Trott gave a snort and looked down at his companion from the corner of his eye. "Really? Because we're all male, you silly bastard."

Sjin closed his eyes, comforted at that thought, while Smith frowned, not sounding entirely convinced. "Oh. Right."

Shaking his head, the skin-wearer crawled out of the bed and grabbed his fluffy housecoat, not even bothering to put it back on before slinking out of the room and back to his own. With a sigh, Sjin nestled his head into the pillow both he and the exhausted slime shared, getting as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, and slowly dozed off for the rest of the night, having bizarre dreams of tentacles and the freedom of outer space.


	5. Dehumanized

The smoothly-carved stone floor was always cold first thing in the morning, but Sjin had quickly grown accustomed to its hard, chilly surface against his naked skin over the past week or so of captivity, where he sat and ate his breakfast across from his masters at their dining table. It hardly even bothered him anymore that he was made to eat on the floor like a household pet, because there were far worse things to be; once he had placed his dignity aside, it was easy for Sjin to learn how to please the three men and keep himself in their good graces, biding his time until he could seize the opportunity to escape. He was learning to take pleasure in the little things to keep himself sane, things like how much the trio enjoyed his cooking, or how Smith would cuddle him tightly like a stuffed toy, or the way Ross would pat him in the mornings while drinking coffee.

That was where he found himself on this day after having scarfed down a large plate of eggs and toast, kneeling beside Ross' chair and resting his cheek against the larger man's thigh. His eyelids drooped with contentment at the feel of square fingers slowly, comfortingly stroking his cheek and beneath his chin, having him in a sleepy sort of trance and more easily able to tune out the playful bickering of Trott and Smith across the table. Ross seemed the most unpredictable of the trio to Sjin, the most likely to get aggressive at a moment's notice, but when he was playing nice like this it was so much easier for the captive farmer to relax.

"Awww, Sparky sure likes that, doesn't he," Smith said fondly, peering over the table at Sjin, who had just let out a little sigh and happily rubbed his bearded cheek against Ross' leg.

"Looks like he's gonna fall asleep," Trott said with a mouth full of toast, cocking a brow.

Smith snorted. "How would you know, mate? You can't even see over the table."

"He's fine," Ross replied in a bored monotone without even looking up from his newspaper, ignoring a yelp from the cheeky slime, who was being jabbed with a fork in retaliation. 

The pounding echo of a furious knocking at the Hat Shack's front door caught everyone off-guard, and all four men instinctively turned their heads to the stairwell leading up. Rubbing his new fork wound, Smith scrambled to leave the table and skittered off up the stairs to greet the unexpected caller, leaving Ross and Trott to shrug at each other before returning to their respective businesses. They were too far away to make out specific words, but the all too familiar voice at the door had Sjin's full attention.

"Well, well! If it isn't our old pal Xephos," Smith said jovially, masking his worry. "What brings you to our neck of the woods, eh? Looking to buy another deed, chum?"

"Yeah hi, Smiffy," Xephos said dismissively, leaning against the doorway with a frown. He looked oddly haggard and unshaven with large bags under his eyes, perhaps from lack of sleep, and his skin even seemed to have taken on a lackluster greyish hue. It was jarring to see the normally well-groomed and put-together fellow in such a state. "No, no more land, for god's sake. I'm out looking for Sjin, have you seen him around recently?"

"Sjin? Sjin who? I don't think I know any Sjin."

Xephos let out an exasperated growl, wiping his hand down his face. "Yes, you bloody well do. You idiots sold him the deed to his farm and have been bugging him about it ever since. I'm not in the mood for games, here, friend."

"Ohhh, _that_ Sjin, the farmer! With the mustache! Of course," Smith said, putting his acting skills to the test and hoping his blind panic wouldn't show through. "Can't say I've seen him, no. Have you checked his farm, mate? I would."

The spaceman grumbled again and rolled his tired eyes; getting useful information out of the Hat crew in any situation was like pulling teeth. He considered the tone of his reply very carefully, looking the green, slimy man up and down several times to size him up. This could take awhile.

Trott and Ross had gone back to their breakfasts, paying no mind to the indistinct chatter of Smith and their visitor, but Sjin listened intently, able to make out a few words, and knew for a fact it was Xephos, dear Xephos, who had come calling. His mind was a blur of calculation as he tried to work out the risks of being punished for an escape attempt versus the reward of succeeding, and though something held him back for a few moments, an inner voice telling him to be a good boy, once the visitor's voice dropped in disappointment, Sjin knew he had no choice but to try. It was now or never.

"Xephos!" he called toward the front entry, more of a desperate plea than a shout.

"Oh crap," Trott muttered, head snapping up from his meal, and in an instant Ross' thick fingers were wrapped around Sjin's neck to silence him as the skin-wearer dashed off to the front door.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, and his iron collar was shoved up hard against his voicebox, cutting mercilessly into his throat; panic mode set in as his vision began to blur and dim in spots. Sjin clawed at Ross' arm and fought for dear life but he was roughly picked up from the floor and bent with his back against the tabletop, Ross' weight pinning him down, fingers crushing his windpipe and ugly bruises already beginning to blossom.

"Not another fucking _word_ ," the larger man snarled an inch above Sjin's face, and loosened his grip after a minute to allow his pet some air, though kept his fingers in place to control the weakened farmer. Ross listened intently to what he could of the conversation up the stairs to gauge when, if, it would be safe to release him. He had to be sure.

"Xephos!" Trott said in a poor imitation of Sjin before coughing and returning his voice to normal. "I knew it was you! What brings you 'round these parts, eh? Need more land? Got a great deal on some barren desert wasteland, special, just for you!"

Smith turned to his walrus-headed companion, acting concerned. "He wants to know if we've seen Sjin around."

"Sjin? Oh, funny lil' farmer fellow with the mustache, right?" He cocked a brow. "Why would we have seen Sjin? Hm?"

Pursing his lips, Xephos lowered his gaze, feeling a pang of guilt. "He's been missing for more than a week and we've been looking everywhere for him. I thought, you know, because of your history...well, I don't know _what_ I thought, but..."

Smith and Trott stood nervously in the entryway as the bearded man trailed off into an uncomfortable silence, the two not daring to even glance at each other.

"Look, if you do see him, would you let me or one of his friends know? We're at our wits' end," he finished quietly, his tall, thin figure seeming wilted under the pressure of worry.

The two housemates set about reassuring him with enthusiastic rounds of "Sure thing!" and "Of course!" before exchanging farewells, perhaps a bit _too_ enthusiastic to be convincing, but as they closed the heavy door and watched Xephos walk away, dejected, they breathed out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

"Cripes," Trott muttered, to which Smith merely nodded in agreement.

Hearing the door shut and his companions hobble back down the stairs, Ross finally released his grip around poor Sjin's throat and backed off, simmering with rage at his pet's disobedience. 

The farmer trembled, raising a hand to his own neck in disbelief, and quickly slid off the table to a kneeling position on the floor, not daring to look up at his furious master. He could feel every breath passing through his trachea as a pointed lump and it ached terribly, forcing him into coughing fits and gasping to make up for lost air. The three men surrounded him, but still he refused to look up, frightened of the consequences.

"Hold him still," Ross ordered as he began unbuckling his belt, and when no one stepped forward quickly enough, shouted, "Hold his fucking head still!"

With a jump Trott roughly grabbed Sjin's hair, positioning the cowering man's neck firmly between his legs to keep him locked in place. Sjin's eyes welled with tears but he let himself be manhandled in this way, knowing whatever came next would be hell, but not having the strength to fight anymore. It was his own fault, surely he deserved it? Maybe it would be over soon, and he could go lick his wounds in peace, he thought miserably.

"Figured ol' Spaceballs up there would save you, huh," Trott said with dark humour, then added in a low whisper, "You brought this on yourself, mate."  
Sjin wriggled a bit in Trott's grip, his neck throbbing in pain, but had no time to speculate as to what came next.

The first hit was as shocking as a lightning strike, a crisp _crack!_ and a scalding metal bite into the flesh of his back causing Sjin to cry out in anguish like a terrified animal. Ross tightened the leather belt looped around his hand and snapped his makeshift whip again, the sharp buckle cutting into the whimpering farmer's skin with cruel force. Each lick of the belt was pure agony, feeling like the skin of his back was being torn away piece by piece, and every tense second between blows seemed to be dragged out for hours.

"Thought you could fucking get away, did you," Ross growled through gritted teeth, punctuating his sentence with a fierce strike and drawing blood. "You're ours now, and don't you forget it!"

Becoming excited by the blood and tension in the air, Trott bent over and ran a clawed hand across Sjin's fresh wounds, causing him to flinch and try to scrabble backwards against the cold floor, though he was tightly held in place and unable to defend himself.

Standing to the side, Smith spoke up nervously. "Come on, guys, don't hurt him too badly..."

"Shut up already," Trott grumbled, waving him off.

The slime quieted for another few lashes with the belt, turning his gaze and wincing each time a cry of pain cut through the room, but soon couldn't stop himself. "Mate, he's had enough! Point made, lesson learned!"

Ross gave one more vicious scourging blow before backing off temporarily to survey his work, more or less satisfied by the maze of bright red welts and open wounds criss-crossing his cowering pet's back. He ran a hand over the obvious bulge in his trousers, his arousal becoming hard to ignore. "Well now, Smiffy thinks you've had enough! I don't know about that. What do you think, Trott?"

The skin-wearer considered this, his own desire stoked by the wounded, helpless man wriggling between his legs. "I think he should show us how sorry he is for misbehaving and ruining our morning, don't you?"

A wicked grin crawled across Ross' lips and he tossed the leather belt aside, then dropped to his knees behind Sjin's quivering form, releasing his swollen cock from the confines of his clothing. 

"You're so right, mate," he agreed, running his large hands down the sides of Sjin's naked body and stopping at his hip bones.

Biting his lip with glee, Trott released the farmer's neck from between his legs but quickly and roughly grabbed him by the hair before he could move, tilting his head up. The berserker's housecoat was easily untied and his curved cock sprung free, pressing insistently against the wetness of his captive's tear-stained cheek. Earlier in his captivity Sjin would never have played along, especially after being beaten like a dog, but by this point he knew his only real option was to obey. Despite the pain streaking and slicing throughout his entire body and a deep fear overtaking him, he willingly took Trott into his mouth, praying this would satisfy his sadistic captors for the day.

As the skin-wearer groaned and fluttered his eyelids with contentment, Ross finished his rutting between the soft, warm cheeks of Sjin's ass and pried them apart, positioning himself for entry. His nudging against the smaller man's hole was brief and even without lubrication he had little trouble cramming himself in up to the hilt with a few hard thrusts, causing Sjin to twitch and let out a muffled cry, new tears glistening in his eyes. 

He deserved this, Sjin thought of himself bitterly, he had been bad and he deserved what punishment he got. The thought was horrible and wrong and it made him feel ill, but it was there nonetheless, eating away at his mind. Blessed endorphins coursed through his veins to help him forget the pain, but he would never forget this brutal humiliation.

Feeling guilty and useless, Smith crept over and gently laid a hand on the farmer's scourged back, trying dumbly to ignore his two companions. The thin, translucent trail of green slime his touch left would help numb the area, though for this level of abuse, he wasn't sure how helpful it would be. His hand roved carefully over much of Sjin's back before he needed to pull away in a fit of shame, his own desires sparked by the sight and sounds of his pet being spit-roasted by his housemates overcoming him. He hoped they were too busy to notice the emerging tip of his copulatory organ writhing beneath his pants, but as he looked over to Trott and saw the predatory gleam in the other man's eyes, the pit of his stomach dropped and he knew he'd been found out.

"Ha, you're no better than us, Smiff, look at you," Trott announced, pulling himself out from Sjin's mouth early, his cock drooling with precum and slick with saliva; morally torturing his housemate would be worth the interruption, he quickly decided. "Bring that weird slimy dick-thing of yours over here, you obviously want to show Sparky who's boss!"

Before Smith could stammer out a negative reply, Trott's hand gracelessly dove down the front of the slippery man's trousers and went fishing for live bait, taking only a second to resurface with a moderately engorged tentacle squirming between his fingers. He gave it a good tug, pulling the slime forward a few inches, and without missing a beat Sjin's tongue grazed the wriggling green tip before automatically taking a few inches of it into his mouth.

"Fuck," Smith swore under his breath, then tilted his head toward Trott, not having the willpower to pull away from such a skilled mouth. "I fucking hate you, you know."

With a chuckle, Trott blew a mocking kiss at his companion and settled for watching the show, though soon began pawing at himself impatiently, not one for waiting his turn.

He had once been able to dissociate and imagine himself into a much more pleasant scene, but as the days wore on it had become harder and harder for Sjin to escape reality, and this time he could not will away the slimy tentacle in his mouth, nor the pain from his crushed throat and savaged skin, nor the large man keeping him impaled with a cock up his backside. Ross was fucking him agonizingly slowly, though not gently, certainly never that. He tried to concentrate on sucking the live tentacle invading his mouth but soon enough the dark-haired man paused in his thrusting to reposition himself and his partner, pulling Sjin into a sitting position on his lap rather than being on all fours. For this the farmer was thankful, at least having the strain taken off his hands and knees, but knew mercy had not been the sadistic man's intention. 

"Give Trott your hand," Ross ordered in a low voice, his strong arms slithering around the smaller man's waist and squeezing him tightly, hooking his chin over Sjin's shoulder. 

Without thinking, Sjin did as he was told, offering an open palm to Trott, who had been looming nearby and looking antsy. In an instant the berserker took the opportunity, letting the captive man's thin fingers close around his aching cock and stroke him quickly, mechanically, without emotion. His hips bucked slightly and he grabbed hold of Sjin's messy brown hair again, enjoying the feel of power it gave him.

Sjin's own weight was now helping Ross pound him as hard as possible, and the bewildered farmer let out a muffled moan around the dripping tentacle in his mouth each time he was pushed upward with a thrust and left to slide back down, taking in as much of Ross' hard length as he could. Despite everything it felt good, very good, and Sjin's round cheeks burned with the shame of his own arousal at being treated like a cheap whore, property to be used and abused in every way possible. He shut his eyes but there was no escape from the mental image, and it haunted him.

With a grunt, Trott bared his teeth and bucked roughly into Sjin's hand, hitting his climax first and splattering seed all over the smaller man's arm and the side of his face. Panting, the skin-wearer reached to wipe their shared pet clean, but a disapproving noise from Ross made him stop and back off, instead stalking over to the dinner table to finish off his now lukewarm orange juice.

The cooling cum dripping from his cheek brought Sjin a shiver of disgust, though it was soon forgotten as the squirming tentacle in his mouth stopped playing nice and eagerly slipped down into his esophagus, writhing spastically as it went. Sjin squealed with pain from his bruised and battered throat being forced wide open, the copulatory organ swelling greatly in size as it prepared to leave its sticky deposit within him, dangerously blocking his airway. The blood pounded in his ears as he fought for a breath around the slimy invader, and in desperation he grabbed the base of Smith's cock and squeezed, rocking his wrist, until the slime's breath hitched and his tentacle burst in a rush of fluid, coating the inside of Sjin's throat and filling his stomach with sticky splatter. He fought to swallow it all but streams of gooey green still dribbled from his lips and into his beard, and his gaze fell to the floor as he gasped for breath, overwhelmed.

Ross groaned lustily in his ear, making the captive's hair stand on end, and Sjin suddenly found himself pushed forward, back onto his hands and knees with his ass in the air. With a good hard slap to the butt it seemed that the larger man had found his energy, and from this new position he slammed hard and fast into his victim, fucking him furiously and without pity for all his aches and pains. Sjin's fingers curled into fists as he endured the rough treatment, wishing his own cock wasn't still responding to this abuse. He arched his back and panted, ignoring the screams from his scourged skin, tightening his inner muscles to finish off his cruelest master as quickly as he could. A breathy moan floated above him; Ross pulled out the instant before he peaked, cumming all over his pet's ruined back and ass, prompting a quavering and most satisfying yelp from the meeting of seed and fresh, weeping wounds. The echo of another hard slap bounced off the walls and snapped Trott and Smith to attention, but Ross was finally spent, and he stood a bit shakily, leaning against the counter to fix his clothing for the rest of the day.

Sjin dared not move an inch, trembling, still cowering on the floor and humiliatingly coated in bodily fluids. The endorphins were wearing off and a merciless, searing ache was setting in throughout his frame, his muscles getting closer and closer to giving out.

"He's yours tonight, you clean him," he could hear Ross rumble, and Smith made a noise from over by the table. "And don't get him off, either; this is punishment, not playtime, you got it?" Another grunt.

Just barely able to wait until two sets of footsteps left the room, Sjin finally collapsed in a heap, curling himself up and trying to quell the shaking that passed through him every few seconds. Smith trod lightly over, practically on his tiptoes, and knelt next to his ravaged pet, resting a hand on his head for comfort.

"I-I'm sorry," he blurted out after a few minutes of silence, not knowing what else to say. 

Sjin barely acknowledged him, only moving his head in the slightest manner and swallowing hard.

Smith sighed, feeling awful, and hoped he could make it up to the other man somehow. "We need to get you cleaned and your wounds treated. You're a mess, mate."

Still nothing.

Closing his eyes, the slime backed off and scooted a few feet away to sit by the counter, figuring maybe he wasn't helping the situation at all.

"Take all the time you need. I'll be sitting right here until you can pick yourself back up." He sighed again. "Sorry."

And so he sat.


	6. Rewarded

It wasn't so much that Sjin hated having a cock shoved down his throat-- typically having his head held in a pair of large hands and his mouth roughly used for pleasure would make him all hot and bothered-- but since his last punishment his trachea was still on the tender side, and having his wounds freshly aggravated was the last thing he was in the mood to endure. The Hat trio had been good about letting his aching body heal after their brutal disciplinary measures, but their sadistic streak could only be quelled for so long, much to his chagrin.

Still, when Ross had cornered him in the kitchen, all worked up about something and sporting a very needy erection beneath his suit slacks, Sjin knew it was his duty to hold off snack preparations for movie night and please his master. Being a good pet was tough, he had come to realize, especially under the circumstances, but ultimately it fed his base desire to help and please others; though he was loathe to admit it, he found it quite satisfying to obey. It was no surprise, then, that once Ross had crept up behind him and pressed in close against his bare back, running his nose affectionately through the smaller man's fluffy brown hair and pawing at his hips, Sjin thought nothing of turning around and dropping to his knees on the spot. 

Had he known before his abduction that he would come to willingly obey the bastards that had done this to him, even become aroused at their treatment, he may very well have retched.

For what it was worth, this was Sjin's new normal, and though he couldn't stop the little whimpers that escaped him with each buck of Ross' hips, the stiff cock hurting his still-tender throat as it was forced down hard, he blinked back watery tears and took it like a champ. Sjin let his fingers deftly roam around the larger man's pubic region and inner thighs, bringing out pleasured moans from Ross and giving the former farmer a streak of satisfaction at the thought that it was he who was truly in control right now. 

Hardly a word was said before Ross stilled, held his pet's head firmly but gently and came, trembling, with every drop of his seed eagerly swallowed and his throbbing, oversensitive cock licked clean afterward. Sighing with relief, Ross took a moment to recover, leaning against the counter, then offered Sjin a hand to stand back up after he had been properly replaced and adjusted in his pants. Sjin self-consciously wiped at his beard, which they had been keeping closely cropped lately, and gave his master a sheepish smile, finding enough comfort in the other man's warm embrace to briefly close his eyes and nestle in close to Ross' front with affection.

"You've been quite the good boy lately," Trott announced from across the room, giving Sjin a start as he hadn't even noticed the other man leaning in the doorway.

"Hasn't he though," Ross agreed as his fingers strayed down to squeeze at Sjin's round ass, fingernails dug into the supple flesh like talons. "Seems he's finally learned."

"Let's give him his reward, then," Smith said, poking his head in over his housemate's shoulder and looking excited at the prospect. Trott rolled his eyes but let the slime pass through the doorway, keeping watch on the brown paper bag Smith carried with him. Agreeably, Ross took a step back from his pet, though kept his hands upon the smaller man's narrow hips. 

With a twinkle in his eye, Smith dug through the paper bag, making loud, distracting crinkle noises, and pulled out three pieces of white leather and fur, which upon closer inspection were two binding cuffs with golden clips and a matching collar with a modest but functional D-ring. Beaming, Smith took one of Sjin's thin wrists in his hand and fitted him with a new cuff, letting him inspect with curious fingers the soft black rabbit fur that lined the finely made decoration. As the second cuff was snugly fitted, Ross extracted a set of tiny keys from his breast pocket and for the first time in two weeks removed the restrictive iron collar from the former farmer's neck, running a finger down the bare and healing but still visibly bruised flesh. Sjin too brought a hand up to his throat, the open air feeling harsh against his newly exposed skin, but this was short-lived as the other two men cooperated to fit the new white leather collar around his slender neck. The silky fur lining was luxurious compared to the cold iron he had grown accustomed to, and he smiled as it truly made him feel like a beloved pet and not simply a prisoner. 

Smith tilted his head and gave the collar's golden ring a gentle tug, capturing Sjin's attention. "Looks good," the green man said with satisfaction. "Stylish."

"Moving up in the world, aren't you," Trott said with a grin. "Now...as for my part..."

The berserker exchanged an eager look with Ross, who nodded permissively while firming his grip on Sjin's hips in preparation for what was to come, and began removing his walrus attire. It was always offputting to see Trott for what he really was: a pale, skinny man with scruffy hair dangling in his eyes, someone who could easily blend into a crowd and never be pegged as a pinniped in his spare time. The dangerous glint in his eye was much more worrisome, however, as he left his walrus regalia on the nearby table and removed the last of the paper bag's contents: two pieces of golden jewellery, a small set of clamps, and a hollow steel needle. As he quickly flicked on one of the gas stove's open-flame burners and bathed the needle's tip in fire, Trott watched Sjin with a critical eye, like a plastic surgeon sizing up a new patient, and Sjin looked over to Smith with a questioning glance, but was unable to discern anything besides apprehension.

"Don't move, and this will be over a hell of a lot quicker," the berserker said frankly while approaching his victim, clamps at the ready. With a funny little smile he handed the instrument over to Smith, and suddenly one of Ross' hands was holding Sjin's head solidly in place to keep him from squiggling with panic as the three men closed in around him.

"Be good, Sparky," Smith whispered, shoving a finger into his nervous pet's mouth and extracting the slick pink tongue within by clamp before a protest could be uttered. "Stay still, alright?"

With a red-hot needle incoming and nowhere to run, staying still was the last thing on Sjin's mind; he shut his eyes and pressed his back up against Ross as tightly as he could, bracing himself for a torture test...but in one white-hot flash of pain, it was over. The needle passed easily through his tongue and the golden barbell was securely in place before he had even finished voicing a surprised squeal, letting Smith release the clamps and Trott finish screwing the ball ends on before whipping his head as far away from their instruments as he could. Within a split second the pain had dulled to a mere throb, but he could hardly even process this invasion, this betrayal, finding the feel of hard metal dragging along the roof of his mouth and across the backs of his teeth greatly unsettling.

There was no relief and only a brief moment to ponder the situation, however, as Trott closed in with that infernal needle again. This time Sjin gasped as his head was tilted upward and he was pinched between the base and bridge of his adorable little nose by Trott with all the finesse of a medical school dropout, only to be stabbed right through the septum like a bull for exhibition. A golden ring was swiftly slipped through the new hole but even with endorphins now granting him some relief from the pain, being pierced through such a sensitive area made him squawk involuntarily and fight against his captors with tears in his eyes. As the brief moment of overwhelming pain passed and left behind a slow, fizzling burn in its wake, Sjin calmed himself, sniffling, and suppressed the urge to claw the cold new ring right out from his nose. 

Trott backpedaled to get a good look at his handiwork, one hand resting under his chin and an admiring smile settling upon his lips. Encouraged, Ross released his firm grip on his pet and spun him around slowly to see the results for himself. 

"Excellent work, Trottimus," he said fondly while tilting his head to observe every angle of these new modifications, poking gently at the tip of Sjin's nose. The slimmer man looked up at him with big blue eyes, still watery from his involuntary piercing, and Ross was overcome with a new wave of lust and unable to keep himself from exploring the fresh tongue piercing in a series of forceful, invasive kisses. Deep in his subconscious, Sjin was fondly reminded of Sips' aggressive style of affection, and he pressed his slim body closer without a second thought, begging for more.

With a snort of amusement, Trott replaced his instruments in the worn paper bag and began reclothing himself in walrus-wear, feeling a great relief at having done his job well enough. "Calm down, there, Casanova; his tongue needs exercise to heal properly but you're going to split it right open at this rate." 

Smith shot him a worried look, but was waved off for the sake of hyperbole.

An annoyed groan escaped from Ross but he did listen to his companion, slowly pulling away to instead nip at his pet's earlobe before parting for good. "Fine, fine. Fuck, I just want to maul him, though," he sighed, leaning in for another quick peck on the cheek.

"Well...it _is_ film night," Smith said slowly, "that should keep us distracted for awhile....right?"

"Film night!" Trott perked up and fistpumped, the event clearly having slipped his mind. "Mauling can wait, mate! We need to get our snack on!"

Sjin scanned the kitchen counter and raised his brows, recalling that he had in fact been in the middle of snack preparations before being accosted by the Hat crew one by one, what seemed like a lifetime ago. He had been theirs before, of course, but now with the gift of fancy accessories and piercings he had truly been claimed, his life in captivity having properly taken hold. The thought gave him a shameful thrill in the pit of his stomach, which trickled down to his groin in no time.

With three sets of hungry eyes upon him he was hesitant to move, but wanting to disguise the beginnings of his arousal, Sjin turned back to the big pot he had left on the stove, which was stainless steel and full of oil and kernels just waiting to be popped. The trio snapped out of their collective daze as their pet busied himself turning dials and digging out saucepans, with Trott and Ross retiring to the living room to fight with the DVD player. Smith lingered for a few moments, though, to slip the favourite frilly pink apron over Sjin's head and tie the strings loosely behind his back, giving the other man a gentle pat on the butt before toddling off to join his companions in their continuing quest to Make A Shitty Film Play On This Fucking Awful Machine. 

Thankfully Sjin had spent enough time in the kitchen by now to safely cruise around on auto-pilot, as he could hardly focus on the task at hand. Besides the lingering sting in his nose and the unrelenting oddness of having hard metal impaling his tongue and resting against the roof of his mouth, his mind was a muddle of emotions and desires, all seeming to conflict with each other. Every extreme from love to hatred, contentment in the now versus the ache of longing for those held dear, arousal and shame, denial and acceptance...it may very well have torn him apart had the first kernels of corn not popped on the hot stove, loudly pinging off the sides of the steel pot and snapping him back to reality to free him from dangerous introspection.

That was it, then. He was here now, he was all theirs, and after a few minutes he left the kitchen bearing the biggest bowl of salted caramel popcorn he had ever made. The smell was simply intoxicating and he had the full attention of the trio on the comfy couch as he scooted into the livingroom with his arms full, one or more of the waiting men having triumphed over the DVD player at some point. Sjin passed the bowl over to Trott in the middle and did his best not to giggle at the skin-wearer, who was sniffing furiously to take in all of the delicious scent wafting by with his nose up in the air and his eyes in a focused squint.

Stifling a yawn behind his newly-adorned wrist, Sjin bent to sit on the floor in front of the couch but was stopped by Ross gently grabbing his forearm. The larger man patted his lap invitingly and raised his brows, giving Trott a hard elbow to lift the huge bowl up out of the way for a moment and be accommodating, for once.

"Take that thing off and come lay down," Ross said encouragingly, nodding his head sideways.

Sjin paused for a moment to look over at the accompanying skin-wearer and slime for their reaction, but merely shrugged and slipped his apron off obediently, carefully settling himself lengthwise atop everyone's lap with his head nestled comfortably in the crook of Ross' arm. Trott grumbled at the added weight upon him but quieted as Smith started the night's chosen movie, a family favourite about a young boy befriending and releasing a captive whale; once realizing Sjin's side made for a decent table, Trott rested the big bowl of popcorn upon him where each man could reach in for handfuls, and gleefully began stuffing his face with the sweet and salty snack. Down at Sjin's thighs, Smith huffed at his companion's gluttony until he had given his first handful a try, then himself picked up the eating pace, cramming his cheeks full at every opportunity like a gooey green hamster.

It took an awful lot of willpower for Sjin to behave and not snack right along with the others, and he patiently laid still, practically salivating; the wait was made more bearable as every so often he would be fed a few kernels from Ross' fingers, which he munched on slowly but happily, his tongue starting to stiffen around the invading metal barbell. 

Once the snacks had dwindled to mere crumbs, the bowl was tossed onto the floor with a loud clatter, and while Sjin lamented the loss of the warmth, he was pleased to feel Ross' square fingers take their place beneath his chin and stroke him in that familiar and comforting way, gently scratching through his beard and along his cheek with a leisurely rhythm. It was surprising to feel more than just that, however, as Trott's freshly-licked claws joined in to lightly stroke along the curves of his bare chest and belly, with Smith's arms resting over his thighs. Sjin nestled himself in closer to his masters with a contented sigh, paying the most attention to the walrus claws that circled along nearer and nearer to his pelvis, drawing tickling, maddening lines all along his underbelly.

"Looks like someone's getting excited," Trott said with a grin, hungrily eyeing his pet's hardening cock which could no longer be hidden.

"Being patted by three gorgeous creatures such as ourselves? Who wouldn't," Smith chimed in, reaching over Sjin's thighs to casually grope at the smaller man's hard-on.

Sjin whined softly and stiffened his back at this new touch, though had no desire to shy away. Warm, slick fingers quickly running themselves up and down his modest shaft and a thumb teasing at his head, along with the other sets of fingers and claws rubbing at all parts of his body in unison sent his vision spinning, and he climaxed in no time at all, an exquisite shiver passing through him while he lay still and breathed hard.

"He's so cute when he cums," Trott cooed, running a single claw up from Sjin's thigh to his navel, making him squirm. Ross hummed in agreement, looking down at his pleasured pet with affection. 

Smith piped up suddenly, keeping his stroking hand in place. "Let's play a game," he said in a rather devilish tone, making the others perk up and turn their heads with curiosity. "It's called 'How many times can Sparky get off before the credits roll?' What do you say, mates?"

"Oh, I like games," Trott replied with a hint of mischief, to which Ross nodded.

The thought crossed Sjin's mind that perhaps he should be worried about this new form of entertainment they had devised for him, but with his head bobbing and drifting aimlessly in a sea of bliss, he simply sighed with contentment and shifted his weight toward his back in anticipation of more rewarding touches. How bad could it be, really?

In fact the next orgasm was nearly as easy as the first, taking only a minute or two of stroking, patting, teasing, and squeezing to render Sjin a breathless pile of mush in their laps. He could hardly form a coherent thought, and may well have fallen asleep if left alone for the duration of the movie, but naturally this was not the case; no one was ever left alone while in the hands of the Hat trio.

After being given a good few minutes of recuperation time, Smith frowned as it was clear from the lack of biological response from their dear pet that simple wrist action would no longer do the trick. He nudged his walrus-like companion's shoulder to grab his attention away from the friendly whale and boy on the tv screen.

"We need to escalate here, mate. Take over for me, would you?"

Trott made a noise of understanding and lowered his hand to continue jerking at their pet's softening cock where Smith had left off, his free hand now dragging claws along the length of Sjin's torso to keep the stimulation rolling. At the head of the couch, Ross continued the lazy jaw massage that Sjin had come to love and watched with renewed interest as slimy green fingers poked and prodded between the leaner man's bare thighs and up into the cleft of his ass, investigating every nook and cranny along the way. Sjin hardly had the energy to move in return, though his breathed hitched as a single slick digit circled the rim of his asshole over and over, tightening the invisible spiral it drew until, with one swift movement, it penetrated with ease. A second soon joined in and that was enough to elicit a high-pitched moan from the collared man in their laps, enough to get the blood pumping back into his unwilling nethers. A tiny jolt of pain zapped through him along with the pleasure of being forced back into arousal, but as those two well-lubricated fingers curled up against his inner walls and kept hitting at just the right angle, he had no trouble climaxing once more. Trott's hand recoiled, a sticky mess, though it was promptly licked clean and rested along the side of Sjin's flushed torso, with Smith following suite.

Sjin could barely keep his eyes open once his heart rate resettled, and figuring it was now game over, that must have been it for the night, he nestled in for a light doze while the movie continued on. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes of relative silence, besides the odd impatient shout at the screen, and he could have slept soundly all night long were it not for a deep voice whispering to him, with warm breath tickling along his ear.

"You've got one more in you, I know you do."

His eye cracked open to give Ross an incredulous look, though it must have come across as mere exhaustion; he felt as though he had been milked entirely dry and left a shallow, though blissful husk.

"You think so?" Smith asked softly. "Film's almost over."

"We'd best give it one more go, then," Trott answered, slowly running one claw up the collared man's inner thigh.

"We'll get it out of him one way or another," Ross added, flashing teeth down at Sjin in a wide grin.

United in their resolve, all three men set to work giving their pet one last hurrah. With Ross and Trott resuming their pleasing massages of his face and front, Sjin was practically asleep for good under their ministrations...until a clawed hand roughly grabbed and squeezed at the base of his shaft, of course, then he was wide awake and beginning to ache from overuse. Familiar slick fingers made their move down to his anus and penetrated with hardly a fuss, first one, then both in and moving together to hit that wonderful deep spot again, and though it all felt very good, as it had each time before, Sjin could only ride along the edge of pleasure and pain while being meticulously worked over, never seeming to hit high enough to reach another climax. 

Determined to push his poor pet to the limit, Ross made an executive decision and gave a command with audible authority. "Give him another finger, Smiffy."

Grinning, Smith obeyed without question and stopped his thrusting to carefully worm a third digit into Sjin's tender backside, eliciting a low moan of appreciation and a twitch of the hips. In resuming his rhythmic probing, however, it was becoming clear after a few moments that this was helping but not quite enough to finish the job.

"Another," Ross urged, to which Smith raised his brows in surprise but obeyed, curious to see if the slim man in their laps could even handle so much.

The warm digits dug deep into his ass were naturally well lubricated with a thin slime layer, and for this Sjin was grateful, as a fourth fingertip teased inquisitively at his rear entry and threatened to stretch him beyond his known limit. He voiced an uncomfortable whine while Smith gently yet firmly wriggled his way past tight, straining muscles, the humanoid using the thumb of his free hand to keep Sjin's cheeks well separated, and again resumed thrusting once successful. 

With his lips parted and back arched, Sjin's brain sparked and fizzled with stimulation, giving a loud moan at the many sets of fingers and claws all working in harmony to bring him to orgasm yet again. Given a few minutes of this he may have gotten there uninterrupted, but with a greedy look in his eye, Ross again gave his command.

"One more."

Smith glanced over from the corner of his eye. "The whole hand, mate? Really?"

"Do it."

Mentally shrugging, Smith readied his last finger for penetration, carefully collapsing his hand and squeezing it in with much less force than he had anticipated. He had meant to reopen his hand very, very slowly, but the sheer pressure of the muscle and soft tissue walls surrounding it forced him to form a solid fist instead. The sudden full, popping sensation made Sjin's eyes shoot wide open with surprise and he gasped, biting his lip. 

"Sorry," the slime said bashfully, though there was really no need to apologize, as the first thrust of his fist deep inside of his overwhelmed pet brought out the loudest and most obscene moan he had ever heard from the captive man.

"There we go," Ross said with a knowing tone while running a square digit along Sjin's bottom lip, feeling the slight indent where more lewd noises had just been bitten back. The moans were scintillating, true, but he couldn't stop from shoving his own fingers into Sjin's needy mouth and muffling them somewhat. He was very pleased at how the collared man was giving them a good, strong suck in response, and the feel of the golden barbell as Sjin's tongue pressed and lapped wantonly against his skin gave him quite a powerful thrill of domination.

Sjin whined and keened around the thick digits in his mouth, every part of his body aflame with maddening overstimulation, and the ache for release was nearly unbearable. He had never been so full in his life, with a slippery fist pounding harder and harder against his inner walls and stretching him so wide he thought he might burst.

Not to be so easily outdone, Trott's claws and fingers and eventually chilly puffs of breath all played at his twitching cock until finally, mercifully, each of his nerves screamed in beautiful agony and he came for the final time that night with a muffled howl, muscles trembling with exertion. He sunk back down into his masters' laps, happily defeated.

"Told you he had one more in him," Ross said smugly, removing his fingers from Sjin's mouth to let him gasp for breath. The other two men made to extract themselves as well, leaving their pet as an exhausted, quivering mess upon their thighs as the movie credits rolled along to a swell of inspiring instrumental music.

Completely and utterly drained, Sjin was finally allowed to fall asleep and truly appreciate his night of rewards. He was so wiped out, he would barely remember being picked up from the couch in Ross' strong arms and brought to his large, inviting bed. 

He certainly wouldn't remember rolling over in his sleep, snuggling in close to Ross and whispering, deep in a dream, "Love you, Sipsy..." 

He would never even know the way Ross' face fell as that simple, familiar name had made the other man's heart plummet into the depths of his stomach.


	7. Discussed

It was no surprise that productivity at SipsCo had taken a nosedive ever since Sjin's disappearance several weeks ago, with Sips and Xephos too preoccupied to run the business efficiently, and, finally at their wits' end, they agreed that something had to be done. It was time for a company meeting.

All three employees were in attendance in the upstairs office, scouring the well-used map of Minecraftia that was unfolded over Sips' desk, though no real progress in detective work had yet been made. The map was riddled with older pen marks relaying information and points of interest from Xephos' labourious note-taking, but it was all old news, and no clear patterns were emerging. Eventually Turps was sent away to brew a pot of coffee, in part to get some blessed silence as the spaceman mentally pieced things together, but of course silence never lasted long in the SipsCo dirt factory. 

The rhythmic _click, click, click_ of Xephos' pen tapping against the hard wood of Sips' desk was nearly enough to drive the somber businessman insane. Twitching, one grey hand shot out and slammed the pen against the desk to keep it still, thick black eyebrows knitted together with intensity; though he jumped in surprise, Xephos knew Sips was frayed at both ends from stress and unravelling quickly, and easily dismissed this outburst. The two men exchanged glances, Sips' brief flash of anger settling into remorse for his aggression toward his friend, and he uttered a quick apology under his breath, actually thankful for Turps' return a moment later. 

Once handed his favourite company mug, Sips took a tentative drink of his steaming hot coffee.

"Turps, this coffee is _terrible_ , did you put actual dirt in it or something?" He pulled a face, the tip of his tongue escaping between his teeth.

"No! Maybe," Turps replied, second-guessing himself. "Look, it's not my fault you keep the canister of coffee grinds right next to the canisters of dirt, alright? I know we bloody well make dirt, but come on!"

Sips grumbled to himself and took another gulp of his beverage before setting it down on his desk in disgust. "Sjin would have made us some hot chocolate for our meeting. His special hot chocolate, with the, the chili powder and cinnamon and the little babby marshmallows. Right?"

Xephos made a noise of agreement, though kept his eyes on the map, trying to discern something, anything at all, from the jumble of lines and notes before him.

"And I bet he would have made snacks too, probably those chili puffs with the herbs in them. Or his chili cheese dip, maybe. God, I hate chilies," Sips said wistfully as he rested his head in his hands, knowing he would eat nothing but chilies for the rest of his life if it meant he would get his best friend and lover back.

Looking up, Xephos gave his boss a reassuring pat on the back, his lips barely able to hold onto a smile. "We all do," he said sadly. "We just have to keep looking for him. There must be somewhere else we haven't checked yet..."

Turps crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the mahogany desk at the centre of the rescue effort. "Roughing some people up would loosen lips, I bet," he said under his breath, not expecting to be paid any mind, as per usual. He quavered a bit as the spaceman glared at him from across the map.

"We're not thugs, you know."

"No, he's right," Sips cut in, steeling his demeanour. "It's been too long with no leads, and who knows what kind of horrible shit could be happening to poor Sjin right now?"

"Yeah," Turps said, waving his hands emphatically, "what if he's locked in a cage or something, Xeph? A _cage!_ "

Xephos rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to dismiss such a silly idea, but never had the chance.

"You know, I think it's time to dispense some justice with a capital J to a few bastards out there. Enough of this polite mapping bullshit, I want answers, and I want them now," Sips said dangerously. He stood from his plush leather chair and began pacing the room, heavy brows furrowed in thought.

"Yeah!" Turps chimed in as he perked up considerably, though instinctively looked over to Xephos for approval.

Their confidence was inspiring, he had to admit. "Where would we even begin," Xephos asked, practically able to see the gears in Sips' mind turning in thought.

"With Rythian," Sips answered, cracking his joints. "I got a knuckle sandwich to feed that jerk, whether or not he's involved."

A little grin lept across Xephos' face at the thought. "Fair enough. I'd like to revisit the Hat Shack as well, if we're really doing this."

"Those shifty bastards," Turps added, just to hear the sound of his own voice.

"Thing is," Xephos continued casually, "they're always shifty about everything, so it didn't strike me as too out of character. But it could be worth looking in to, right?"

Sips replied with a firm nod, making a mental list of unfortunate souls to interrogate along their tour of destruction. "Good, this is good," he said, then turning to the lean man in red and pointing at him. "You need to get Honeydew and Lalna in on this shit, too; the more fists, the merrier."

Xephos looked back to their map and hastily scribbled down some notes, reinvigorated by this new, crude plan. It was something to go on, at least; something they had been lacking for some time.

"Easily done. Come over here and we'll plot out the best routes and times before we go too far," he said, waving at both Sips and Turps. "We've only got one chance to make something this bold work properly before it gets all mucked up."

Grinning from ear to ear, Turps joined his coworkers in a tight huddle around the map and fistpumped at the chance for a new adventure. He liked Sjin well enough, and this was at least something he could help with, to bring some sort of normalcy back to his favourite people and banish the gloom that had settled over the SipsCo compound.

Besides, Adventure was practically his middle name.


	8. Freed

In a sense Sjin felt spoiled, as there was never any difficulty in getting the attention he craved; one or more of the Hat trio were always eager to take him for a ride. One simple action, plucking someone's strings to the right tune, was all it took to end up bent over a table and whining with pleasure. Now that he found himself fairly comfortable with his new position in life, it was easy to indulge his desires whenever he felt like it, taking a supremely guilty pleasure in being fucked by more than one person at a time.

With that in mind, he found himself in the kitchen as the trio scraped the last vestiges of supper from their plates, his arms draped lazily around Ross' neck from behind. He leisurely but insistently rubbed his round cheek against the other man's temple, occasionally running the tip of his pierced nose along the sensitive rim of Ross' ear to make his hair stand on end.

"Someone's frisky tonight," Trott observed from across the table, unable to hide his cheeky grin.

Smiling playfully, Ross took hold of one of his pet's arms and gently kissed a trail up the soft, bare skin of his forearm right to his elbow, causing Sjin to laugh quietly at the delightful tickly feeling and puff little breaths into the larger man's hair.

"And just how frisky are we," Ross asked, turning his head slightly, "on a scale of one cock to three cocks at once?"

Sjin's sly smirk gave his answer away, and he buried his nose deep into his master's short, dark hair to hide his blush, though eyed Smith bashfully.

"Ohhh, someone's looking for three~," the slime teased in a sing-song voice, hopping out of his chair.

Wearing a shit-eating grin, Smith circled around to Sjin's back and slipped an arm around his thin waist, holding him close and letting him feel the beginnings of a bulge beneath his pants. Sjin eagerly pulled away from Ross and leaned into the humanoid's warm embrace, arching his back and grinding his naked backside up against Smith, a mischievous look in his big blue eyes.

"You're an awfully naughty pet," Smith chided, biting his lip.

"That's the best kind, though," Trott said as he too rose from his chair to join his companions, sitting on the table next to Ross' empty plate. His claws tapped on the wooden tabletop with a nervous excitement, tilting his head as he watched Sjin's encouraging responses to being felt up. "So what do we do about him, mates?"

Ross pushed himself away from the table and stood, his arms forcing themselves in between Smith's front and Sjin's back to wrap around his pet, giving him a few possessive kisses along the curve of his cheek and down his neck around his collar. Sjin's attentions during mealtime had already had the desired effect, giving the larger man an aching hard-on, which now pressed between his pet's legs with urgency. Held tightly between two warm, firm bodies was having the same effect upon Sjin, who closed his eyes with contentment, anxious to see how the game would play out tonight.

"We give him what he wants, clearly. Smiffy, turn him around, would you?"

Smith replied, sounding mildly outraged. "Why do _you_ get dibs? I was here first!"

"Just _because_ ," Ross replied with exasperation, rolling his eyes, as if even dignifying that question with an answer was beneath him. He quickly unzipped his suit pants, freeing himself from their tight confines. "Do it, already."

Grumbling, Smith released his serpentine grip from around Sjin's waist, letting the man in the middle turn around obediently. Sjin fell into Ross' embrace with a snug familiarity, having done this so many times since his first capture that it was impossible to keep track. His breath spiked as his legs were parted by Ross' cock and he gave a moan of anticipation, backing his plump rear against his master's pelvis, teasing him. A large hand grabbed him by the thigh in response, holding his leg off the floor to allow better access for penetration, and he could feel the firm tip of the other man's cock pressing insistently against his asshole. Ross ceded one moment to tightly grab at one of Smith's arms and run his palm along the gooey skin surface a few times, his hand coming away nicely slick and green and able to coat himself in convenient lubrication before continuing. Sjin could feel the larger man's hot breath over his shoulder, hitching as he pushed himself in, a shiver running up his spine.

"Lift," Ross grunted to Smith, and on cue the slime took Sjin's other thigh in his hand and hiked it up, the two men supporting their pet's weight off the ground, both encouraged by the squeal of surprise and delight it earned them as Sjin was forced to take the whole length of Ross' shaft in one quick motion. 

Trembling, Sjin's nails dug deep into the fabric of Smith's suit jacket, his teeth worrying a dent into his lower lip. The farmer wrapped his calves around the slime's hips for support, pulling him in close, his muscles clenching with all of his strength as Ross gave a few strong starter thrusts. Unable to wait, Smith maneuvered a hand to his own pants to let his now fully engorged tentacle roam free between both of their bellies, and his subtly-defined lips clashed with Sjin's in a mess of fevered kisses.

Trott watched the show with the intense focus of a pervert at a porno theatre, one hand drifting down to stroke himself to full hardness before joining in. While he had always enjoyed dishing out punishment, there was something especially satisfying about pleasing their pet now that he was fully cooperative and obedient, something gratifying about how he had gone from an unwilling prisoner to a special fucktoy that was practically begging for attention. 

A drop of precum leaked from the tip of the skin-wearer's cock as he pondered this, his focus now on the green alien organ slithering around Sjin's shaft and encircling it like a snake coiling around its prey. In an instant he was torn away from the show, however, by a furious knocking at the front door of the Hat Shack. Trott turned his head toward the sound with annoyance, frowning.

"Seriously? I'm not answering that. Fuck it."

No one argued otherwise, until the knocking became even louder, angrier, and Smith broke from his reverie to nag his friend.

"Fuck's sake, go see who it is, Trott! We're busy here!"

"And I'm not?" the berserker protested, hand around his aching cock, but soon gave up with a grumble and hopped down from the table, fixing his pants. Not that he could easily hide his bulging erection from whoever had come calling, but it was better than not trying at all.

Hobbling up the stairs, Trott fumbled with the lock before opening the door a crack, peering out cautiously and uttering an annoyed " _What_ ," before the weight of three other people forced it wide open, throwing the berserker back against a wall.

"Knock knock, motherfucker," a very smug and familiar voice declared, coming from what was presumably a red-headed dwarf at the back of the gang on their doorstep.

Sips was the first to invite himself in, striding across the threshold with all the confidence of a slumlord demanding rent money, taking a good look around the entryway. Turps and Lalna rushed in from behind to ambush the wide-eyed Trott, grabbing his arms and wrestling a pair of squeaky handcuffs over the skin-wearer's wrists. With a slyly inquisitive expression, the grey businessman approached his surprised victim, looking down upon him with crossed arms in a clear intimidation tactic.

"Well well," he drawled, his lip curling at the sight of Trott's barely contained erection. "Looks like it's party time in Hat Town, huh? You better watch that thing or you'll poke someone's eye out."

"The fuck d'you think you're doing in here," Trott squawked in a high pitch as he was hauled upright and kept in place by Turps, whose armour was looking a bit scuffed and singed by magic from a previous home invasion.

"Surprise inspection," Turps said far too cheerily, slamming Trott up against the wall as the smaller man wriggled in his grip.

"You've got something of ours," Lalna said in his best attempt at intimidation.

"Some _one_ ," Xephos corrected, hands on his hips. "Well, he's not really ours, either, he's his own person, but...you bloody well know what we mean!"

Panicking, the berserker tried to stammer out something, anything that would delay the inevitable, but came up somewhat short. "I have no idea what you're talking about! We're simple businesspeople, this is a violation of our rights! Outrageous, simply outrageous--"

With a snort, Turps shoved Trott against the wall again, cutting him off from further protest.

"We'll see what the other Goonies have to say about that," Sips scoffed, allowing himself to continue on down the stairs and get a better look at what the trio had been up to. They had been curiously nonintrusive in their dealings lately, hardly poking their heads above ground, which was never a good sign, in most everyone's eyes.

The gang were close behind, filing down the stairs in an orderly line, then fanning out once inside to search each room individually. Sips waited for a moment before catching and following the faintest hint of audible voices into the kitchen, with Turps close behind, eagerly pushing the handcuffed Trott along between them as their new prisoner.

Whatever the businessman had been expecting to find beyond the doorway, it was certainly not Sjin, his Sjin, in the throes of ecstasy between two other men. Both Sips' and Turps' mouths hung open for a moment in shock at the sight of their missing friend, now found, with his head thrown back while being furiously plowed from behind, gripping Ross' hair tightly.

"Sjin!" Sips declared in a mangled pitch, the relief in his voice mixed with confusion and outrage, barely even noticing as the others rushed in to help subdue their targets.

In an instant, Smith's head snapped over to the angry mob in the doorway and his busy tentacle unfurled itself from around Sjin's cock, waving with futility in the open air. Lalna's brows nearly lifted clear off his face once he caught sight of the slime's unconventional anatomy, the blonde man's expression oddly intrigued, whereas Honeydew fought to suppress a gag.

"What the hell is _that_ thing," the dwarf cried, looking pale.

"Holy crap," Lalna said with excitement, lifting his goggles up, "I've got to get a good look at it, whatever it is!"

Not even daring to shoot Ross a frightened glance, Smith untangled himself from his pet and housemate to scoot away to safety, trying to keep the kitchen table between himself and the encroaching dwarf/scientist combo. With each careful step the two took toward him, arms raised and hands ready to seize him at the first opportunity, the slime skittered back and forth indecisively, finally diving beneath the table to make a break for it. He was easily tackled and wrestled to the ground, though, with Honeydew sitting securely upon his back while Lalna slapped a set of handcuffs around his wrists.

A voice was calling Sjin's name, a voice he had longed to hear since the beginning of his ordeal...the farmer's focus returned to him despite everything, his feet now planted on the ground, but still trapped in Ross' unrelenting grip. His senses clearing, he felt his eyes welling with tears at being seen like this, at being naked and collared, at being fucked by someone with no right to it, but mostly at being unable to silence his persistent moans of pleasure, his small gasps and whines. Ross had no intention of prematurely handing his beloved pet over, either; aware he now had an audience, the dark-haired man slid one arm around Sjin's waist and the other around and up his chest, fingers clasping his slender neck to keep his head up, forcing the smaller man to look right at his bewildered friends. 

He was nearly there, too, so close to hitting his climax that he could hardly stop now. Ross took advantage of his chance, likely the last time he would have it, and gave a few final thrusts into Sjin, shooting Sips a downright malicious look before a shudder took over his body and he came with a groan, nails clawing across Sjin's soft belly. Ross made sure to give his pet a final loving kiss as well, a parting gift as his cock slid free in a rush of fluid, finally releasing Sjin from his grip.

Nothing else needed to be said, at that. Rolling one sleeve up, Sips stormed over before Ross could attempt to retreat and, winding up with all his might, punched him straight in the eye, his knuckles striking bone with the loud crack of a baseball bat. Ross instinctively cowered and reached up to his wounded eye, giving Sips the chance to tackle him to the floor in a fury of limbs and teeth and wrestle him into submission, greater weight giving the businessman a clear advantage. Scrambling up onto his chest, Sips easily slammed his fist into Ross' face again and again, drawing blood, and could only be torn away by Xephos after a few more hits, who had made the executive decision to step in before Sips left his new enemy as a bloody pulp on the floor.

"Sips," Sjin said in a near-whisper with his eyes still watering, though now more from the joy of seeing his lover for the first time than anything, in what seemed like a lifetime of waiting.

There was no hesitation on Sips' part once Sjin had said his name; he stood quickly, brushed himself off, and, seeing the humiliated look in Sjin's eyes, took him up in the biggest bear hug his arms would allow, never wanting to let go. Sjin had gotten used to affection from the Hat trio, even come to crave it, but this was home for him, right here in his partner's loving, all-encompassing arms. It was greater than words could ever express, and he shut his eyes, blocking out all the world save for Sips.

Leaving Smith trapped beneath Honeydew's considerable weight, Lalna scrambled over to offer his lab coat to Sjin, placing it over his narrow shoulders, which the farmer took gratefully, smiling as the scientist tried to avert his gaze from his friend's nakedness. At Xephos' call he joined in the fight to subdue a badly beaten Ross, who was simply unaccepting of his defeat, and let the broken man wear himself out before they hauled him upright to join his companions in handcuffs.

"What do we do with these buggers now," Turps inquired once the dust had begun to settle, shaking Trott a bit more violently than necessary to demonstrate just who fell into the category of 'bugger'.

"Well," Xephos considered after a moment, "I suspect Lalna will want to have Smith stay at Yoglabs for a bit of testing--"

The scientist grinned wickedly, noting Smith's garbled groan from underneath the dwarf.

"--and I'm sure Sjin would appreciate someone to do all the backbreaking manual labour at his farm while he recovers."

"That's you, sucker," Turps whispered gleefully in Trott's ear.

"I suspect Sips will want to deal with Ross on his own, though, yes?"

Not daring to let Sjin free from his embrace, not ever, Sips turned his head to answer over his lover's shoulder. "You're goddamned right I do," he growled, and was met by a simple, bloodied smirk from Ross.

"Well, alright then, it's settled," Xephos said, rather cheerfully under the circumstances.

Sjin rubbed his cheek against Sips', having missed the eternal stubble framing the businessman's jawline. His voice was soft and wispy from disuse, but every ear in the room perked as he spoke, simply waiting for his command.

"Let's go, guys."


	9. Vindicated

Sjin had always appreciated the sight of his vast fields of crops swaying in the fresh air, the squish of fertile soil beneath his boots, and the sound of chipper birds flying past as he worked, but once he had returned to his farm after his ordeal, he discovered a whole new layer of gratitude for the simplicity and freedom his old life granted him.

He stood in his farmhouse kitchen with the sink window wide open, the warm breeze rustling through his mustache just enough to tickle, and he sighed, having missed this so much. He did fidget every now and again, finding the feel of flannel and denim against his skin more irritating than ever now coming from weeks of nakedness, but it was a small price to pay for a return to the wide open world. 

Looking curiously out the window, he could see that Xephos was back outside supervising Trott's well-deserved punishment of manual labour, and returned the gesture as the spaceman gave Sjin a friendly wave. Xephos had done a decent job of tending to the crops on his own, in truth; most of the farm was already automated, so despite worrying about returning to find his home in a state of disrepair, Sjin was pleasantly surprised by the effective management his friend had provided during his absence. 

It was deeply satisfying to watch Trott, half-naked and red as a blistering lobster from sunburn, forced into plucking every single morsel of ripe plant matter by hand. The practically naked skin-wearer would stand up every few minutes to crack his back and complain loudly to Xephos, inevitably earning himself a zap from the stun gun the spaceman carried on his hip. If only he knew how much worse Smith was being treated over at Yoglabs, no doubt subject to a plethora of invasive and inhumane tests, he would hardly be complaining at all.

Sjin could easily hear the yelp of pain and resulting curses from the electric shock each time the berserker expressed his discomfort, and while he found it mildly amusing, he could hardly understand why a bit of farming would be considered a punishment, really. It was very nearly his favourite thing to do, to be out in the sun giving his plants the tender care they required, to feel the dirt beneath his fingernails and the wind drying the sweat of his back. In fact, he would have loved to have been out there, perhaps harvesting some of his tomatoes while green to bread and fry them, or tilling soil for a new crop, or even picking the flowers that grew wild and free along the boundaries of his property.

He stopped then, and tried to rid himself of the idea. Sjin knew he would never be the same after his abduction, and though he could no doubt work through it with great effort, the mere thought of being out there alone, vulnerable, brought him to the crumbling precipice of a panic attack. His captors were all being detained and harshly punished now, of course, but the mind is a funny thing, and Sjin doubted his would ever again know peace in solitude.

A bit shaky, Sjin made his retreat from the window to seek comfort with Sips, who was relaxing in a plush lounge chair in the livingroom, his feet up and arms resting behind his head. The businessman hadn't left the farm yet and had no intention of doing so until he could be sure Sjin was once again secure in his home, no matter how many times the farmer assured him he was. Putting on a warm smile, Sjin deftly climbed into his partner's lap and wrapped his arms around Sips' neck, knowing he was safest right where he was.

"You doin' alright, kiddo?" Sips asked with genuine concern, slipping an arm around his partner's hips.

Sjin responded with an affectionate peck on the lips, though Sips wouldn't let him go so easily, gently taking him by the chin and directing him back for one or two more kisses before relenting.

"Never better," Sjin said with a nervous laugh, "but your taste in furniture leaves something to be desired, for sure."

With a huff, Sips lifted his boots up from his footrest for a moment, revealing it to be not simply an inanimate object but in fact a very bruised and naked Ross, still and situated on all fours like a stone statue, attempting to ride out this portion of his punishment with as much dignity as he could muster. Darkening welts could be seen along his back where heels had been dug into him much harder than necessary, and though it brought Sips great satisfaction, Sjin could hardly say the same.

"A man's gotta rest his feet, Sjin," Sips said, prompting the requisite giggle from his partner. "Besides, I bet this is the most useful the bastard's ever been." Sjin smiled awkwardly at that, glad Ross wasn't able to see his face.

Blissful moments of silent snuggling passed by with only the slightest noises of discomfort from Ross shifting his weight to remind the pair that anything was out of the ordinary. Calming and beginning to feel the need for a nap, Sjin let out a fierce yawn, which devolved into a snuffle of amusement at the look Sips was giving him.

"You, uh, you're keeping that thing in, huh," Sips said with some hesitation, confusing his partner momentarily. "You got rid of the nose thing, but you're keeping the tongue thing?"

Sjin's brows lifted as he realized his tongue ring would have been plainly visible while he yawned, and was surely what Sips was asking about. "Well...yeah, I guess. I mean, it's not so bad," Sjin replied with a shrug. "Kind of fun, actually."

"Oh, I bet it's _real_ fun, if you know what I mean," Sips said in a lewd voice, waggling his brows for effect. Tact had never been one of the businessman's finer qualities.

"Like you wouldn't believe," came a raspy voice from below, Ross being unable to keep himself from commenting and dampening the mood. His entire body ached from hours of keeping one position, his knees trembled and his back felt as if it was broken, but nothing could stop his snide remarks, even if he paid dearly for them.

Sips removed his heels from Ross' back and slid one boot beneath the kneeling man, giving him a solid kick in the belly to make him sputter for breath. "Speak up again, fucker. I dare you."

Sjin squirmed in his partner's lap, the thought of provoking his former master still making him flinch, torturing him subconsciously. "Don't," he pleaded, hiding his face against Sips' shoulder. "Please."

"What, why not? He's begging for it, Sjin, come on."

Regaining his breath, Ross chuckled darkly and bit his lip. "Your little whore was begging for it, too, by the end..."

" _Whoa_ , okay, _that_ crossed the line," Sips growled, lurching forward from his chair with Sjin in his arms, then depositing his partner back down in the warm seat with loving care. "Stay put for a sec, Sjin, there's a sludge leak in here that needs fixing."

Sjin turned his gaze away from Ross while Sips went to rummage through numerous chests, resting his head against the back of the chair. Not that he wanted to turn a blind eye to danger, but vile, complicated emotions were bubbling up inside of him, clogging his throat. Just catching the look the bruised man gave him from the corner of his eye was all it took, a lustful and domineering look with no hint of remorse. Even under the circumstances it made Sjin feel so small, helpless, that by the time Sips returned to his side he could hardly open his eyes.

"Here we go," the businessman declared as he stretched out the roll of duct tape he had found, the ultra sticky and resistant substance making a loud and gratifying ripping noise in his hands. 

Before Ross could react, Sips stuck one end to the defiant man's cheek and wrapped the length of the tape around his bloodied head a few times, making sure his lips were well covered and unable to utter any more filth. Satisfied, Sips tossed the roll of tape and gave Ross another swift kick in the belly for good measure, sending him crashing to the floor with his exhausted limbs flying out from under him.

"Problem solved," Sips said happily while maneuvering his way back into the chair, Sjin shifting enough to clamber into the broader man's inviting lap and back into his favourite position in the world. "What's that saying, Sjin? 'Some motherfuckers always gotta ice-skate uphill.' That was John Travolta, wasn't it?" Sips again crossed his legs, resting them atop Ross' injured back, this time not even letting him rise from the floor.

"Yeah, I think so," Sjin replied in a shaky voice, his sense of security slowly returning to him. "In that movie where he plays an alien, and he has to fight the humans in an ice-skating contest."

"Yeah, _Braveheart_. What a shitty movie. At least he ended up being decapitated by a skate blade, though; that was fantastic."

Sjin let out his first genuine laugh since returning home, likely since before his captivity, even. He nestled in beneath Sips' strong jawline, rubbing his nose along the grey man's neck with affection, and sighed contentedly.

"Love you, Sipsy."

"...I love you, too, Sjin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! I hope you've enjoyed your descent into depravity with me. I really appreciate all the kudos and comments you guys have given me on this. You can always drop me a line on [tumblr](http://saltyghost.tumblr.com), too. Thanks so much for reading!


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